


The Black Rider

by revati



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Conceptual crossover with Bleach (no characters will be crossed), Except for Jason's vigilante identity which is taken from Durarara's Celty, F/M, Jason is half dead, Kinda, M/M, Might be easier to just say I'm using Kubo's ideas and none of the plot or characters of Bleach, Reapers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revati/pseuds/revati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wayne's in the past, I met him. He'll get back jus' fine."</p><p>Commander Jonah Hex glared at Jason. "Tha' means keep yer nose outta it, kid."</p><p>Jason looked away from Tim and grinned too many teeth. "Not like anyone actually follows the rules, Boss."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I should be studying. But this idea has been digging into my shoulders for weeks now. So here it is. Hope you like it! Ghost is still my primary story, but I'll be working on this too. 
> 
> Jason is the Black Rider. Just to clarify XD

            [Want to find Bruce Wayne?]

            Tim stared at the holographic text screen projecting from his glove and then up at the Black Rider, black boots, black leather jacket.

            "Bruce is dead." Black body armor, black helmet, but somehow, Tim could feel the man smirking.

            His screen brightened with the response. [Bruce is lost in time. You know that.]

            Tim's stomach flipped as he looked up. The black helmet stared down at him.

            "How do you know that?"

            The air tightened around them, the temperature dropping just a bit as black smoke billowed out of the Rider's palm, materializing into a long, curved, deadly scythe. His head tilted silently.

            [I'm a Grim Reaper.]

*          *          *          *          *

            Barely a month after Bruce had vanished, Dick had fired Tim. Damian was Robin now, and Tim wasn't sure if he could take it. Certainly he wasn't dealing well. Dick wouldn't listen and Damian took every opportunity to taunt him. Alfred, great mediator that he was, was still reeling from Bruce's "death."

            Tim had thrown everything into his research, had stopped going to the Titans Tower, had stopped going to school.

            A week later, when Tim's body had forced him to sleep nearly fifteen hours to make up the time lost, a uniform had appeared on his bed.

            Tim should have snapped right up, should have analyzed the suit, double checked his security, but in a daze, he'd rushed out of the apartment, still in his clothes from the night before. It was only when he reached the corner that he noticed the thick black glove on his left hand. A holographic screen and keyboard appeared with the words [Get back to bed, Babybird.]

            Only Dick called him that and only Dick might have been able to break into his apartment. Except when he replied [I don't need a babysitter, Dick.] the answer [Sorry, not Discowing.] was followed by the blaring of a motorcycle.

            A black bike slid to a halt in front of him, the rider just as black, covered head to toe, with no skin showing. Tim was out of costume and could only gape as the man (teen? taller and wider than Tim could ever hope to be regardless) tossed him a helmet.        

            Tim blinked stupidly and the glove screen lit up again. [You're dead on your feet. I'll bring you home.] The biker had a small handheld and pat the space on the bike behind him. It wasn't Dick; this person was wider in the chest than Dick, and it didn't seem like the armored suit had all that much padding. Who was this? Why did he know Dick's nickname for him? If nothing else it implied this person knew he had been one of the Bats of Gotham.

            The Black Rider, Tim's brain woke up enough to supply. A new face or mask in Gotham City, having only entered the spotlight in the last few months. According to Bruce's files; however, he'd existed for years as more of an urban legend than a vigilante. Batman had never caught a glimpse of the Rider, but plenty of civilians in Gotham, New York City, and most major cities in the Northeast whispered about the Black Rider, a biker who generally kept an eye out for them and was more than willing to escort them home at night if he was around.

            He hadn't been cause for concern before, mostly thwarting muggings and small robberies. They'd all just assumed he wouldn't try anything more. If he'd already connected Tim and Dick to Robin and Nightwing and managed to break into Tim's apartment, then he was far more dangerous than any of them had given him credit for.

            The sun reflected blindingly off the black helmet as Tim clambered onto the bike. This was a dumb idea. Dick certainly didn't need more ammunition for Tim's apparent break with reality and would have expected Tim to call in to report their compromised secret. But their identities weren't public knowledge or even circulating the criminals of Gotham, so the Rider must have kept his mouth shut. "Did you leave me the suit?"

            Now the Rider's shoulders shook lightly. [Do you like it?]

            "I didn't really look at it before I left."

            [And you just left it in your pad? You definitely need sleep, Timmy.]

            Tim pouted, resting his forehead against the Rider's back. "My name is Tim, Tim Drake-Wayne, not Timmy."

            The motorcycle revved to life and the Rider kicked back the kickstand, balancing the bike with his legs. [Then we'd better get to your place before someone notices Tim Drake-Wayne looking debauched and on a motorcycle with a mystery man.]

            They sped down the streets before Tim could protest, the sudden acceleration jolting him to throw his arms around the Rider's waist. Up close the was ridiculously large, probably had the same build as Bruce which was both intriguing and heartbreaking to contemplate. Tim quickly shoved aside that chain of thought.

            They arrived at his door in less than two minutes, and Tim, despite the paranoia banging on the walls of his skull, invited the Rider in. The Rider froze and Tim looked down, his face likely going red. The screen brightened again.

            [Maybe next time, Babybird. Hope you like the uniform.]

            When Tim looked up the Rider was gone with not even a whirl of tires to broadcast his departure.

*          *          *          *          *

            Tim didn't see the Black Rider again for several weeks despite keeping an eye out in his new uniform. He'd tweaked it a little to suit his tastes, scraping the cape and rounded cowl. The uniform was clearly meant for someone larger; so much of the time was spend cutting back kevlar and restitching.

            The red was distinctly Robin red though the rest was black. It was very similar to the Robin suit, actually more similar to the original worn by Dick and Jason than the one Tim had created for himself. But the black pants weren't the only change. The uniform had more armor than the original Robin suit, but was streamlined, the red being just as flashy, but with steel in the boots and serrated steel in the gauntlets and gloves for dealing out punishment on his own rather than falling back on Batman. It was a uniform for an older Robin, an independent Robin. Tim had always been rather independent.

            When he finally did see the Black Rider, Tim was once again in civilian guise. A young woman was looking around frantically on a street corner when the Rider pulled up next to her. Her panic dissolved into relief as she beamed and hopped onto the bike. They'd sped past Tim just slow enough for him to see the woman's rest her head against his back, molding her body to his back.

            A girlfriend? It wasn't too outlandish. Plenty of capes had significant others in the know.

            It didn't stop Tim from snapping when he called the school and his guidance counselor tried to stop him from dropping out.

            [Can we meet tonight on the DI building?]

            Tim had stopped mid-rant and with a stiff apology had disconnected the call, replying to the text to meet at midnight.

            When Tim touched down on the DI building, the Rider was already there. His bike was too, which got Tim to really stare. How had he gotten the thing up here? Why had he bothered?

            [The suit looks good on you.]

            Tim fought down a blush, Babs had also complimented it, but had been more curious as to how Tim had whipped up a new uniform so quickly. Even behind the helmet, Tim could feel the Rider's gaze. He shivered and clenched his jaw.

            "So I guess people are used to you giving them rides?"

            The Rider tilted his head and Tim bit back a snarl. "I know you saw me today."

            [I've been helping her get home for three years now. There's nothing else to it.]

            His ears were hot and Tim wished he'd kept the cowl. Why was he even upset about this? What the Rider did was his own business. Maybe it was become no one seemed inclined to keep an eye out for him now. He hated to think he was needy, that he'd come to rely on having a partner enough to latch onto the first vigilante to look his way.

            The Black Rider stepped forward. [I have a proposition for you. A project we can work on together.]

            Tim's heart shouldn't have jumped into his throat like that. He didn't know the first thing about this vigilante. He clenched his fists. He couldn't hide behind Robin anymore. If he was going to make it as a new Robin, Red Robin, he'd have to be willing to give others the same trust the Titans had always given him. Not having all the answers didn't mean he couldn't take a leap of faith.

            "Alright. What do you have in mind?"

            [Want to find Bruce Wayne?]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that. Every time I want to save a chapter as a draft, the draft vanishes and the fic gets "updated" without the new chapter. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know if my transition from moody-Tim in the last chapter to not-moody-Tim in this chapter was too forced. Please. I live off a steady stream of comments. :)

Chapter 2:

            "Rob, come out to the Tower."

            Tim huffed, stretching to reach the top of his whiteboard. It was all well and good to create digital flow charts and beam then onto the board, but drawing it out gave Tim more time to think of each piece. He'd gone over the evidence, what little of it he'd gathered, enough times for his eyes to roll out of their sockets.

            "Kon, I don't have the time for this right nnn..." He jumped a little to dot the i, "...now."

            "Come on, Robbie! I miss you. Kon misses you. You haven't been to the Tower in like forever, and you never call!" Bart chattered, beating his foot against the floor. Tim half listened as he wrote. He'd have to get a sample of the corpse they'd buried and test for genetic and epigenetic factors, which was why he'd called Kon out to Gotham.

            Why Bart had come along was beyond him.

            But as soon as the pair had arrived they'd beset Tim with a laundry list of grievances.  

            "It's the boyfriend isn't it?" Bart sighed.

            The marker squeaked horrifically against the surface.

            "...?"

            "Tim, clearly you're caught up in the honeymoon, but don't you think you should be more careful?" Kon snatched the marker out of his hand, pushing Tim onto the couch as Bart landed next to him.

            "If you were going to get leather clad booty, you might as well have told us first!" The speedster wailed, tugging Tim's arm and making his body vibrate.

            "There is no leather clad booty. Why are we talking about pirates?"

            Kon and Bart shared a glance, before Kon sat down, taking Tim's hands in his massive paws. "Have you even being paying attention to the internet lately? There are so many pictures of you it's really kinda terrifying." There was no way Superboy should be that good at parental concern.

            "Pictures?" Cause yeah, Tim hadn't really been looking at the internet except for more research.

            " _Pictures_ , Tim! As in iPhone photos of Red Robin pressed up against a sexy biker, on his sexy bike!"

            "Wha... The Black Rider?"

            "Oh, is that his name? When do we get to meet him?" Kon was definitely bitching at him. Tim could expect a bro code lecture in his future.

            "He's not my boyfriend."

            "He's not?!" Bart crowed, jumping over the back of the couch. "Well bring him over anyway. I'll take him."

            It shouldn't have raised Tim's heckles the way it did. "KF-"

            "Wait. Why haven't you taken him? Rob, _what is wrong with you_? You've seen his _thighs riding that bike_! Call him right now!"

            And just to mess with Tim, the door bell rang.

            Bart was already tackling Tim to the floor. "Supey, get it!"

            Kon saluted, ignoring Tim's _I will send Lex blackmail fodder- no, Kon, don't!_

"You must be The Black Rider."

            All capitals implied.

            Tim slumped under Bart, who could give Dick a run for the most octopus-like person.

*          *          *          *          *

            The Rider had taken the invasion of the Titans without skipping a beat.

            [You can tag along, corroborate Babybird's story.]

            Bart had mouthed _Babybird?_ incredulously, his eyebrows dancing and Kon was frowning worse than ever but the Rider hadn't given then time to process, padding out to his motorcycle.

            There was a reason Tim had been readily accepting rides, but in two weeks, he'd learned next to nothing about his new partner. The Rider's bike was definitely a custom job, but likely not from any of the shops around Gotham or anywhere else considering it was probably as supernatural as the Rider himself. It was completely silent unless the Rider was going for noise and it sounded like anything between an engine and a horse and could make vertical climbs up the side of buildings, completely in defiance of gravity.

            The scythe hadn't come out since that night on the DI rooftop so Tim had shelved his theories about it until further information could be gleaned.

            The Rider himself was probably the most mysterious of all. Despite frequently beating down the criminals of Gotham, he left no DNA, nothing for Tim to analyze to identify him. Even following after him had proven impossible as the Rider was apparently based in East End. The Bats of Gotham had never managed to take hold of that area of the city. And because the Rider never spoke, Tim couldn't use voice recognition.

            But Tim's glove was quickly filling with texts, little things and big things, stake outs and whims. The Rider sent "good mornings" daily, up until he'd actually dropped by one day and realized Tim wasn't going to school.

            Tim wasn't aware it was possible to look furious, bemused, and truly deeply upset with an opaque helmet, but the Rider had been that and he'd shoved the next text into Tim's face. [Call the school and make sure you don't get expelled. Do you know how many would kill for your brain?!]

            He swung by every night with dinner, sometimes take out, sometimes homemade (The Rider was a really good cook) and he always pulled Tim bodily away from his desk and dumped the food into his lap.

            Tim had been sleeping better, had become less moody. It was humiliating considering Tim was usually the voice of reason and restraint for Bruce.

            The motorcycle stopped outside Gotham General Hospital, the Rider leaping off and sprinting for the door. Tim wasn't the only one to notice the bike was upright without the kickstand.

            "It's magic, right Rob?"

            Tim watched the bike lower the stand itself and shrugged helplessly at Bart as Kon all but ripped him off the seat. "Let's just see why he brought us here."

            Kon nodded and grabbed Bart, flying them to the third floor after Tim fired his grapple. They entered through a window at the pediatric ward and Kon led the way to a small single. Tim pulled up short at the door.

            A girl lay dead on the bed. A Dollotron victim and _Damian_ was _crying_ against her limp hand.

            The Demonspawn bolted up when they entered, wiping his cheeks furiously even as more tears fell. Tim sent a distress signal for Dick who was across town tonight and would hopefully follow the summons without question.

            "What are you doing here?!" Damian half yelled, or tried, his voice was hoarse and the idea of Damian crying, honestly bawling like the child he was... was mind blowing.

            "We're here for him." Kon grunted, still uncomfortable with another person in the Robin suit.

            Damian turned and yelped, leaping back to the windowsill. "Where did you come from?!"

            The Black Rider was sitting beside the girl's head, smoothing back the mask's red hair. How had Damian missed him?

            The Rider didn't answer, but typed away at his handheld before it's screen lifted off the device and expanded. [One more, kid.]

            And out of nowhere, a blond thin woman was leaning against the wall in the corner of the room. Damian went from confused to furious as the number of people increased without his awareness. Probably put a dent in the brat's pride. Then Tim remembered his tears and felt bad. Damian was probably more worried that so many people were intruding on his time with this girl.

            Ignoring all of them, the woman glided over to the Rider, settling her arms around his shoulders and placing a soft kiss against his helmet. She was youngish? with blond streaked brown hair, petite and stick thin, but in a way that looked healthy, an ectomorph. She looked good, like someone's tiny big sister in a white blouse and faded jeans. But she hadn't removed herself from the Rider.

            Damn it! Tim wasn't going to react. But it was kinda weird to see his almost-kinda-maybe partner rest his arms around the woman's abdomen, the two staring at each other, the dead girl and back to each other.

            Then Rider reached over the body and took the hand Damian had dropped (Damian growled, but stayed glued to the opposite wall) and tugged.

            Smooth as water, the girl fell into the Rider's arms, completely limp, eyes closed. Except translucent...

            ... and the body was still on the bed.

            Kon had already pushed the three of them behind his bulk, Damian having been grabbed by Bart at some point, and the little snot stared wide eyed at the Rider as the woman combed her fingers through the girl's hair, which was distinctly brown. And her face wasn't covered in the plastiflesh mask.

            So yeah, scythes were carried by grim reapers, but that was only folklore. Tim hadn't actually believed the guy when he'd announced it.

            He glanced at Bart who was pale under the freckles and... there was probably no denying this was a thing that happened, was there?

            The dead girl woke, blinked, turned to her body and screamed.

            It grated into the walls, into the floor, through Tim's skin, rattling his bones like a tuning fork-

            ...

            When Tim opened his eyes, he was lodged into the corner by the door, Damian pressed against his chest, his arms covering the boy's ears as Damian's hands covered his. Bart was blinking next to him from under a slumped Superboy, out cold.

            At the bed, the Rider's hands were clapped over the girl ghost's mouth as the woman held her gently as she cried. Sparkling red tears dripped off her chin, angry red, red like blood.

            Giving the girl a look, the Rider moved to their side, crouching down. Bart whimpered, pulling Kon closer and Tim crushed Damian (who was also passed out) against his torso.

            The helmet was blank, and Tim's glove lit up. [I'm sorry. Our voices don't gel with mortal ears.]

            Bart read, leaning over Tim's shoulder and glared at the Rider. Tim kept his face neutral as he aligned the new fact. Now he had a concrete reason why the Rider never spoke, never huffed, never laughed.

            But _mortal?_ Tim knew there were immortals running around, real ones, not Ra's Lazarus brand, but they didn't typically appear in Gotham. Bruce's files were clear that they tended to hold themselves above most "mortals" and wouldn't... do any of the things Tim had seen the Rider doing before tonight. 

            The woman looked down at them and her eyes were glowing green and Tim's tightened his grip on his little brother. The Rider's shoulders slumped and he walked back to the woman, bringing his helmet right next to her ear.

            The sound now was a scattering rumble, at once high and low and changing direction by his perception. Nodding, the woman pulled the girl to the window, looking back at the Rider with something like pride and fear before the pair vanish.

            Superboy groaned, drawing Bart's and Tim's attention.

            [It's probably harder for enhanced hearing.]

            "You think, arh-"

            Kon clutched his head, Bart massaging his temples for all the good it would do.

            Tim got up shakily, moving between the others and the Rider. "Why did you want to show me this?"

            The moonlight threw a curved line onto the helmet, a smile. [I knew you wanted to know more about me.]

            Kon was up now and clamped a hand on Tim's glove. "He can't date you."

            Tim blinked and his ears flared. Really, Kon? Now?


End file.
